


"You are not a god..."

by notjustmom



Series: "You remember too much..." [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Mary not important, mention of time away, not a christmas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 20:06:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13131165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: The first of a series based on a list of snippets of the poet Anne Carson's work that I found while stumbling around on tumblr...





	"You are not a god..."

Sherlock stared at the ceiling, trying to get his body to follow his instructions. He had three cases on, one was of 'International Importance' the other two were mildly entertaining, trifling puzzles for Lestrade and his circus of idiots, and yet, it was now that the nightmares had decided to return. Now was not a good time.

"You are not a god, you know," John had whispered at his ear, as he came out of the nightmare, shaking with the sobs that he couldn't control. "You are a human being, and there are days when your human bits rebel. Rest, love, and I'll get you some tea."

It was insufferable. It wasn't that anything hurt precisely, it was simply that he was frozen. Freezing on one of the hottest days on record - the warmest July in London in centuries and he was shivering under every throw, quilt and shock blanket in Baker Street. There was nothing to treat, no drug that could make it just go away, he just had to get over it.

John laid a cup of tea on the table next to his side of the bed, then walked over to his side, shrugged out of his robe and climbed into bed, pulling Sherlock into his arms. They sighed together as Sherlock laid his head on John's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"I'm sss-orry." Sherlock chattered out miserably.

John kissed the top of his head and said nothing, just held onto him tighter.

"I haven't been this cold since Ssserbia - damn it."

"Tell me." 

Sherlock shook his head and pressed a kiss to John's shoulder. "Can't."

"You can, love. It might help a bit, get you back to work."

He closed his eyes, then opened them again, as if he could see it all as it had been."It was an old Cold War bunker... all the amenities, nice cement floor, dripping pipes running above, leaking roof, no heating - they had me - tttied up - by my wrists - didn't let me sleep, or eat really - just enough to - kkkkept playing that bloody awful boy group music from the early 90s at a strange high pitch - lights on all the time - I'd drift off and I'd wake up to the same music, same lights, after a while, lost track of time - still don't know precisely how long I was there - they didn't know I spoke Serbian until I started hallucinating you and started talking to you in Serbian for some reason - then they started questioning mmmme - I don't remember when Mycroft showed up - could have been weeks, or days... he waited and watched, John. Just watched... eventually - he - I - talked my way out - convinced the man with the lead pipe that his wife was at that moment having her way with the coffinmaker..." Sherlock snorted. "And Mycroft got me down and put me on a pplane - eventually home... to find - damn. I'm so ssssorrry, Johhhn." John didn't say a word, simply threaded his fingers through Sherlock's hair as he finally fell asleep.

He woke up an hour later, John's fingers still stroking his hair, still holding him, still with him. He had long stopped wondering why John chose him when he came back, he could have so easily chosen the woman who sat across from him instead, but she had made it easy for them, easier than he deserved, he had always thought. She had been kind to all of them when she decided to walk away - later when he learned who and what she had been, he understood how very lucky he had been, how very lucky they had all been. Before the Fall, perhaps he would have been able to see what she was in their brief meeting, but even by the time of the events of the 'Great Game' as John had dubbed it, John had changed him too much - he could no longer see people as things to analyze, people were far too -

"Hey - how are you feeling now, love?'

"Hmmm. A bit more human, less ice cube-ish."

John smiled down at him. "That's good, wanna try getting dressed and going for a walk?"

"Can we just stay here a bit longer?"

John nodded and brushed a stray curl from his face. "Of course we can."

Sherlock sighed as John's arms tightened around him once more and he heard him whisper, "it was always, always you," as he fell back into a restless, but dreamless slumber.


End file.
